Two points are to be made: one historical, one metacritical.
❥ I love how writing, and more specifically poetry, helps me reframe my way of thinking and viewing the world. Late October last year I would meet my friend and poet Ben. The first time I heard him speak was when he read this poem at a poetry night in Glasgow. He introduced himself into my life bringing Dr. Cooper-Clarke with him.
I was still in love in October. And I was still very angry.
Poetry just helped me see clearly what I couldn't.
Thank you to my dear friend Ben for introducing me to the punk poet.
❥ Cooper-Clarke and even more so my friend Ben, who is in a certain sense a more or less spiritual descendent of his, have shown my Italian authorial voice that poetry can be silly and mean and rude and vulgar, and will be nonetheless amazing poetry. It's allowed me to experiment with my own angry, vulgar, violent, putrid voice. And I'm quite excited to see him in Edinburgh in a few days.
TWAT
Like a Night Club in the morning, you’re the bitter end
Like a recently disinfected shit-house, you’re clean round the bend
You give me the horrors
Too bad to be true
All of my tomorrow’s
Are lousy coz of you
You put the Shat in Shatter
Put the Pain in Spain
Your germs are splattered about
Your face is just a stain
You’re certainly no raver, commonly known as a drag
Do us all a favour, here… wear this polythene bag
You’re like a dose of scabies
I’ve got you under my skin
You make life a fairy tale… Grimm!
People mention murder, the moment you arrive
I’d consider killing you if I thought you were alive
You’ve got this slippery quality
It makes me think of phlegm
And a dual personality
I hate both of them
Your bad breath, vamps disease, destruction, and decay
Please, please, please, please, take yourself away
Like a death a birthday party
You ruin all the fun
Like a sucked and spat our smartie
you’re no use to anyone
Like the shadow of the guillotine
On a dead consumptive’s face
Speaking as an outsider
What do you think of the human race
You went to a progressive psychiatrist
He recommended suicide…
Before scratching your bad name off his list
And pointing the way outside
You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart
You’re heading for a breakdown
Better pull yourself apart
Your dirty name gets passed about when something goes amiss
Your attitudes are platitudes
Just make me wanna piss
What kind of creature bore you
Was is some kind of bat
They can’t find a good word for you
But I can…
TWAT
(Source: https://johncooperclarke.com/poems/twat)
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